Rain
by Kat Dakuu
Summary: One rainy night, France showed up at England's countryside estate out of the blue without a smile or explanation. He harbors a secret and because of it, he just might be there to stay.


Rain

_Let the rain wash away all the pain of yesterday_

_~J. Cole_

The feeling of another's gaze startled Arthur away from his work for the fifth time that day. He snapped his pen down and lifted sharp eyes to meet blue ones. "Francis, I'm not in the mood right now," he bit out. Arthur had too much paperwork to do and Francis' constant moping at his countryside estate wore his patience thin. Why was the man even here, and for a week no less? He just showed up one rainy evening without an umbrella or his usual smile. The sight so shocked Arthur that he let the other man in without a thought. Francis never said a word in explanation. After Arthur sent him to the shower, they fell asleep, and in the morning the Frenchman wore his charming personality again. Now a week later, he hadn't left and acted so jovial that Arthur almost thought he dreamed the rainy night up.

"Mon ami..." Francis whined from the doorway. "You've been working all day. Come have tea with me." When Arthur looked up after a minute of silence, he found Francis still there with a smile on his face. Just because Arthur wished it didn't mean that man would go away. He sighed again. The longer Francis stood in the doorway, the more the printed words turned to fuzz before his eyes. Realizing he couldn't finish his work until he appeased Francis, he groaned and put his pen down.

"...Fine. Can you start the tea? I'll be there in a minute." Francis nodded and Arthur closed his eyes to the sound of retreating footsteps. "Why are you acting this way..?" He should have asked that from the start, but now the awkwardness made it impossible. Too much silence passed. Although Arthur didn't need time to stall, he paused to tidy his papers. When he did leave, he walked with calm and measured steps, allowing his face to shift into one suited for afternoon tea.

Francis stood in the kitchen, half-leaned against a counter with his long hair hiding his face. Despite this, Arthur felt sure the man stared off with a decidedly un-him sort of look. It made him take pause. What to do? Finally, he dragged in a deep breath and charged forward with enough pomp to give Francis time to compose himself. "Is the tea ready?!" he demanded in a loud bark.

When Francis spun around to face him, he'd already slipped his smile back into place, but the way he gripped the counter left his skin white around the knuckles. Arthur's shoulders sagged as well. Seeing that, Francis jerked a bit before turning to the stove again. A second later, the kettle trilled and gave them both time to recover and squash their memories deep down in the boxes inside them, bulging with too many centuries.

"Milk right?" Francis asked. It took Arthur a second to understand before the other man thrust out a white teacup. The smell hit him and he nearly let loose a blissful sigh. Familiar. Perfect. Humming in agreement, he threaded his fingers through the cup's handle. Francis raised his own teacup before Arthur spurred into action.

"Shall we take this to the other room?" He led the way without waiting for a response, but he heard Francis' footsteps following him. Arthur sunk into a burgundy upholstered chair, crossing his legs in the same motion as he rested the teacup on his knee. "That's better." He didn't realize how tense he'd been until his back popped and all his forgotten muscles relaxed. He chose the lead them into the library so that his every deep breath filled with tea and books—his two favorite scents. A smile creased over Arthur's face as he sipped the hot liquid. Nothing could ruin this moment.

"Well don't you look happy," Francis chuckled. Arthur's emerald eyes snapped open to find the other man leaning against the back of his chair. Wavy blonde locks brushed against his head and Arthur swatted them away, albeit grudgingly. Francis had silky hair. Arthur could give him that. He eyed the cup resting against his chair back.

"If you spill that, I'll make you pay for the cleaning service."

"Oh no. I'd never spill!" Francis chimed in with too much smile, holding his free hand up in peace. He slipped around and pulled a matching chair far too close to Arthur's and sat down. "As always, your tea is the only thing you make right." The charming smile didn't match his words at all. Arthur glowered from over his teacup, but he didn't have the energy to fight properly. No creative snarky words popped into mind and he'd hate to curse so blandly like Alfred did. In the end, he just sighed and stared into his cup. This way, he didn't have to see the way Francis looked at him. He knew if he lifted his eyes, that mysterious stare would bore into his being. It was strange. He didn't understand Francis because he never saw the man look at him this way before, soft and intense at the same time.

Arthur cleared his throat. "I should get back to my work." With a start, he realized he finished his tea. All the better reason to get up. When he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward though, Francis held his arm out and barred the way. Arthur turned with a questioning look to see those blue eyes on him yet again.

"Just one more minute?" Francis whispered. Arthur leaned back, silenced by the plea. His eyes darted away and he tutted before turning back, the answer written on his face. Francis nodded with another charming smiles. "Yes, I understand. Just one minute. Here, let me get you more tea." Before long, Francis brought the teapot into the room with a tray of packaged snacks that he avoided touching, but brought for Arthur's sake nonetheless. Tea splashed into his cup. A dry pastry landed in his hand. Arthur didn't know how to deal with this situation, but he supposed he could relax one minute. He did so like his tea.

With more muscles relaxing, he found himself snuggling farther into the chair. Although he still needed to finish his paperwork, he wanted to laugh in the face of his responsibilities if just for today. He'd never do such a thing, of course. Even as a punk, he kept it to his free time. How could he insult the properness he was meant to uphold in order to be lazy? Today though, maybe it wouldn't be so bad to take a break. He felt himself relax so much that even Francis' ever watching eyes ceased to affect him. Each sip of tea saw him disappearing farther into warm cushions. Finally, he couldn't keep his eyes open at all.

Francis watched for another minute before he slipped forward and leaned over Arthur. Gentle breaths signaled he fell asleep so Francis took the not quite empty teacup away when his fingers started to lax. Silent and careful, he set the thing aside and found a blanket in another room to spread over his sleeping form. After smoothing it into place, Francis knelt there close enough for his breath to ghost over Arthur's face. A soft smile drifted across his lips. Seconds later, it dipped down with the heaviness he finally let shine through his eyes. He brushed a hand through the bangs that sat in a mess across Arthur's forehead. Once, a long time ago he'd cut this hair, but the memory already faded at the edges like an old photograph. Arthur never let him touch it again.

Letting his hand linger against the other's cheek for too many seconds, Francis almost couldn't force himself away. He smiled, hard and cold. "Would you hate me if you knew?" The whisper echoed behind in the silence as he slipped away. How much longer could he keep this secret?

xxx

Arthur woke to the smell of sausage and beans. Grunting, he straightened in his chair and a plaid blanket slipped down to pool in his lap. "…This?" He lifted the corner and held its lingering warmth against him. It felt like he slept for three days straight. Arthur's eyes widened and he snapped his head toward the carved wooden clock on one bookshelf. 5:30?! Hours passed since they sat down for their little tea time and Francis must have done something because Arthur would never sleep before he finished his work otherwise. He spied the set aside teacup and knew Francis planned this from the start.

Flinging the blanket away, Arthur stormed out of the library. "Francis bloody Bonnefoy, why did you let me fall asleep?!" he screeched as he rounded on the kitchen. Francis jumped from where he leaned over a large pot.

"Mon dieu, Arthur! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" he complained, a hand jumping up to cover his heart dramatically. Unfortunately, that hand held a wooden spoon and bits of food splattered to the floor. Arthur's eyes tracked every drop with an unblinking stare. Francis winced, taking a step closer to the stove. At least he had the sense to look repentant. "Come on, I thought you needed it. You've been working too hard lately and you were going to keel over at some point. Better there than on your desk!"

"What did you say?!" Arthur grabbed the other man by his white, starched collar. "Now I'll be even farther behind! You think this is helping me?!" The two flailed as Francis fought to free his shirt and Arthur tried to land a punch.

"You little punk, let me explain! I know you have to do your work so I went into your office to help a-"

Arthur's voice reached an unbearable level. "You looked at my papers?! That's sensitive information!"

"_God _no! I don't want to read about your boring life. I just straightened all the papers and sprayed freshener," Francis huffed. The two of them bumped into the counter and balanced precariously, Arthur nearly pushing him all the way over into the start of a salad. Francis had to dig in his heels to fend the angry Brit off who still had his hands clenched in his collar. "It was starting to smell like you live in there. Which…is more or less true. It's because I know you well that I can say you're avoiding me even more than working. Isn't that right?"

Arthur's eyes widened, then narrowed into sharp green lines. He pulled one arm back and Francis caught it just before the fist flew forward. A salad fork tumbled to the floor. "Don't get violent near the food! It's dangerous!" he hissed and tightened his grip on Arthur's wrist. "You really have no sense around kitchens do you?" Francis sighed. When Arthur didn't rise to the usual insult, he loosened his grip. Those green eyes that made his normally plain appearance into something magical stared at Francis, wide and unreadable. He opened his mouth, still trying to process the look.

"You did it for me, right?" Arthur whispered. He dropped his arms and turned away. For a minute, silence settled over the kitchen. Francis nodded hesitantly then reached for Arthur. He didn't step away, so Francis ran his hands along the other's arms to rub some life back into them. Even when Arthur's eyes darted up again, he didn't let go. It left his heart pounding so loud that he wondered if Arthur heard it.

"Stop looking at me with those tired and lonely eyes or I don't know what I'll do to you," Francis whispered back in the same quiet voice. Despite his words, he didn't want Arthur to look away. He wanted to stay this close all the way until Armageddon if Arthur would let him. Francis shook his head. "It's because you need someone to look after you that I can't leave."

Arthur's eyes widened before he wrenched away. Francis stuttered in shock, but he didn't have time to speak before a hand slapped him across the face. "You two-faced bastard! What are you mothering me for?!" Arthur snapped. "You showed up with that sort of dead expression and you want to worry about me? Well fuck that! How about you stop acting like a lying idiot and tell me what's wrong with _you_!"

"E-eh?" Francis raised a hand to his cheek. "Nothing's wrong with me." He didn't understand Arthur's issue here. Why this anger? For once, Francis did everything right. Really, he went out of his way to do everything perfect since he woke up in Arthur's guest bed, surrounded by five of his plushest blankets. Did the brit really think he came here looking for help? Nothing was wrong in the first place. Francis held up a hand before Arthur could protest again. He chewed on his lip. For a second, Francis nearly laughed and played the same game he played this entire past week, pretending he had nothing on his mind. Then he saw Arthur's trembling shoulders, his bared teeth, and those eyes strangely warm with a extra wet sheen. No, he couldn't hold back his secret any longer. "It's just, I realized something that night and I drank enough to want to say it. I never got a chance though because you were too kind and I thought the dream would break." He swallowed hard. "Would…it be alright to tell you now?"

A second of silence passed. No rejection came, so Francis swooped in before the other man could pull away. Soft lips brushed against chapped ones, lingering enough to taste before he pulled away. It lasted only seconds, but Francis felt flushed with drunken euphoria. Finally, he'd _finally_ kissed Arthur.

The moment that could have gone on for an eternity broke in an instant. "What the hell are you doing, bastard?!" Arthur snapped, shoving Francis away from him. Right in the middle of the serious moment like this. Why did Francis have to go and stick his foot in his ass at a time like this? A sneer twisted Arthur's face. "Will anyone do for you? Perverted freak! Man-whore! Wanker!" He continued to shriek every insult he could think of and finally settled on, "Hopeless."

Despite the continued insults being thrown his way, Francis' determined face did not twitch. He could not be deterred, not when he'd come this far. With his blue eyes clear and not even a smile on his face, he grabbed hold of the Brit's flailing fists and covered them softly. "I love you, Arthur."

The smaller man's yelling turned into sputters. Francis spoke right over him as his voice grew in confidence. "I've loved you since the 13th century. Even though we fought all those wars, I was really happy. I thought, if I couldn't have you as an ally, I would have you as an enemy. At least this way, we were always connected. All throughout my history, there's hardly a moment without you. Isn't that impressive?" He let out a laugh filled with awe. "Even if you don't return my feelings now, I'll keep loving you. I just…wanted you to know." Francis' eyes finally darted down and he let go of Arthur to take a step back.

"B-bloody git!" Arthur grabbed him by the shirt front again and crashed their lips together. This time, the kiss sparked with passion. Moving hungrily, lips parted, hot. It didn't last any longer then the first, but when they pulled apart, Arthur's face burned bright red and even Francis couldn't stop the flush on his cheekbones. "D-don't think this means anything! It's just, how can I not react to something like that?" Arthur took a deep breath and said very seriously. "I don't love you." Francis' face fell at his words. "But my heart's not something easy to get. A person has to spend a long time trying and I won't stop that person, s-so…"

Everything inside Francis' little box of locked away things came exploding out as he stared open mouthed at Arthur. Did he just hear what he thought he did? Those words left him breaking out in cold sweat as his hope dashed then rose again. Rose because he understood what Arthur just told him. Slowly, a smile spread across his face and Francis reached for one of his hands again. The two hesitated before Arthur allowed him to settle his palm over the clenched fist. "Then…will you go out for tea with me tomorrow?"

Arthur paused, his eyes traveling along the ivory baseboards. Finally, he spoke even if his eyes stayed somewhere on the other side of the kitchen. "As long as you pay."

Francis grinned as he soared again. "Of course, mon amour."

**Epilogue**

Francis let out a last moan before he collapsed on top of his lover. The two rolled into a more comfortable position as they tried to catch their breaths. They found themselves to be quite compatible and their every time together left them basking in sunshine and devilish pleasure. Since the night Francis confessed, a month passed. He couldn't understand why he held back for so long. After some initial awkwardness, Arthur and he became an item, although a somewhat atypical item lacking in the roses and chocolate and the _amour _Francis so loved. All in all, he couldn't have been happier with their relationship. It lacked only one thing. Francis could be patient though. He held back for centuries, so for a simple additive like this, he could wait until the ends of the earth. Just Arthur and his unspoken love gave him enough.

Hearing a breathy sigh from his right, Arthur rolled over to prod Francis with his foot. "Don't sound so mopey in my bed." Francis turned his head to rest against a pillow and pouted, but even this motion fell short. That one thing he had yet to hear…he sighed because he knew tonight just like every other night he would not hear it. Forcing a big grin onto his face, he pulled Arthur into his arms and planted a kiss on his forehead.

"Why would I have reason to mope in my cheri's bed?" he chuckled. "And after such a wonderful foray into the acts of love!" Arthur's face turned bright red and Francis swooned with the knowledge he could still get that reaction after a month. Arthur shoved him back into the covers and tossed a tissue box at his head.

"Idiot!"

Francis pulled out a few tissues, still chuckling at Arthur's embarrassed reaction. A minute later, they snuggled under the sheet again after the smaller brit slipped on a pair of sweatpants. In the slow trickle of silence that followed, Francis stared at his lover's back. He gazed softly whereas Arthur burned the bedside lamp into pudding with his gaze. "Are you sure you're not upset about something?" Francis asked hesitantly. Arthur rolled over and suddenly he was an inch from Francis' face.

"Shut up! I'm not angry at you for once!" He grabbed hold of some golden waves to accent his point. "Now go to sleep before I change my mind." Arthur used his grip on Francis' hair to force the man onto his back so he could curl up against his side, ignoring all the whines and curses thrown his way. Silence fell back on the room for one second before Arthur finally released his hair. "And Francis…" He swallowed hard, hands twisting in the bedsheets before he swooped forward and pressed a kiss to the other's cheek.

"I love you."

* * *

(AN: Can anyone else tell I wrote this story at least 6 months ago? My old stuff is so short and lame! *cries in a corner*)


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